Shadows of White
by Patience Memory
Summary: The color white stands for many things, and shadows are found in many places. A parallel piece between Koruba Kaito and Kudo Shinichi.


**I do not claim rites for Detective Conan or Magic Kaito. This is simply a fan's tribute to some amazing characters. The poem used in _"Shadows of White" _however, is my original work. **

**-Shadows of White-  
><strong>By Patience Memory

_White for innocence, white for its death, __White for the place you took your last breath..._

The thief's hands, bleached in the moonlight, seem to glow in the darkness around him as they spin the rim of the top hat between their gloved tips. His shadow, a testament to the full moon above his head, falls away from the marble white tombstone before him, as if respecting the memories of the dead. He stands unmoving for a moment in silent reverence to the ghost he represents. It might be risky to come here like _this_, but standing this way in this spot reminds him who, and what, and why. It gives him the fire to turn around. He places the white top hat back on him head and pulls it close on his brow as he turns and walks from his father's grave, a secretive grin that belongs to a ghost on what is visible of his face.

The grade-schooler fingers his unneeded glasses, running much too small hands over their rims as he stares at the patch of grass before him. The sun is high, and he can almost convince himself that the sweat on his brow is from the heat, not the memories. He can hear the whoops and screams of elation from the riders of the park attractions around him, but he stands still, looking at the patch of ground where the world crashed around his ears, and fights the urge to turn and look into the alley behind him, just in case he isn't alone. It might be risky to come here like _this_, but standing this way in this spot reminds him who, and what, and why. It gives him the fire to turn around. His eyes take in the scene one last time before he places the glasses back on his face and walks away from the place he lost his identity, a smile to hide the torment bright on a face that wasn't always his.

_White for the moon, I tip my head, __White for justice of the dead..._

His head is tilted down to cast his face into shadow and his hands are in his pockets as he waits on the edge of the roof, the helicopters and police lights glittering on the horizon. He watches his shadow walk to the edge and follows it, smiling in case it is watching him also. He pauses when he is standing on the low wall, and pivots, his monocle glinting with the reflected light of the moon as he regards it warmly. A seconds pause and he bows elegantly, and in that moment he does not know if he is a son or a ghost. A cloud passes before the moon's counterpace and as quickly as the feeling comes it is gone, and he's turning again, cape billowing behind his shoulders as he tips over the edge. He has work to do.

His glasses catch the light, hiding his eyes as he stands behind her, hands in his pockets. He watches her join the crowd on the sidewalk and follows, smiling brightly in case someone is watching. He slips his small hand into hers, and she starts, looking down at him. He looks up as she regards him warmly as she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. A seconds pause and he smiles back up at her, and in that moment he does not know if the smile belongs to a glasses wearing child or her friend long gone. A scream pierces through the sounds of the city, and both their heads snap in its direction, the moment past. His hand slips from hers as he begins to run. He has work to do.

_White for the one I miss the most, __White for the remnant of a ghost..._

He sits alone on the floor before his father's portrait, staring up at the secretive precise expression on the magician's face from his often used seat. His hands are still as he talks to the picture as if his father was really standing before him, and his voice is soft. The wind brushes through his hair from an open window somewhere in the house, and it's almost an answer.

He sits in that familiar phone booth, staring up at the window of the Mouri Detective Agency from this often used place. His hands hold his bowtie as he talks to her as a young man she once knew, his expression soft. When he walks back through her door, he finds she isn't crying this time, and it's almost enough.

_White for the challenge, white for the prize, __White for the tears trapped in her eyes..._

He laughs and teases and plays and smiles, eyes glinting with humor as he peeks over the ridge of his newspaper and listens to his blond acquaintance throw back acid retorts in a polite tone. There is a buzz in the classroom about the heist, and he's as excited as they are, for this might be it. A day later he is still smiling, because even if this wasn't the one he's still crossed one more jewel off his list… until she comes in after a night alone, angry tears in her eyes as she sits beside him. Then he must lift his paper to hide his face, for he's no longer smiling.

He sits expectantly, his eyes glinting with nerves. His blonde acquaintance gives an acid remark as she drops a pill into his outstretched hand. He takes a breath, and he can't help but be excited, because this might be it... but day later he's a child once more. He's reminding himself that each failure brings them closer to a permanent cure, but it's a hard thing to remember when she picks him up from the Professor's house with tear tracks down her cheeks. He finds it is easier to duck his head than to pretend this time.

_White for a the truth I left to find, __White for the ones I left behind..._

Gem after gem after gem after gem. heist after heist after mask after mask. The closer he gets to _that man_ the farther he is from her; but he can't stop. He can't just let them get away with it. So he closes his fingers around the gem and the game begins. He smiles sharply as he does what must be done, enjoying the rush of adrenaline; even so, he can't quite forget she's out in the crowd, waiting for him.

Lead after lead after lead after lead. Case after case after mask after mask. The closer he is to _Them_ the farther from her he finds himself, but there is no other way. He just can't let Them get away with it. So he taps the trigger on his watch and the game begins once more. He gives the shadows a razor-edge grin when he's finished, basking in the rush. But if he pays attention he can still feel the ache in his chest because she's still out there, waiting for _him_.

_White for shark's smiles and barred teeth, __White for the scream held underneath..._

It's the love of the chase, the rush in his veins as he sprints before his Task Force, his grin something feral as he leads them away from the sniper on the roof; away from the source of the rage buried beneath his laugh.

It's the love of the chase, the rush in his head as he sprints after the murderer, his grin that of a predator as he herds the man in black away from his friends; elated down to the fury in his soul because maybe this time, he'll _end_ this.

_White for the masks held to your sight, __White for the can't and try, and might..._

She catches his arm as he makes to slip away into the throng of policemen, and asks him if he'll be back before the heist starts, a shadow of a suspicion she dares not examine too closely in her voice. His pats her wrist with his left hand, the right already closed on the smoke-bomb in his pocket, and smirks into her worry, playing the clown she's learned to expect until her grip loosens. He promises he'll try to get back before the thief comes, and he knows he's a liar; and then he's made a remark that leaves her sputtering, and slips away laughing in the way of the clown of Ekoda High. She lets him go, smiling after him, because it's just him acting like he always does.

She keeps her hold on his small hand for a moment when he tries to join his friends outside of Beika Elementary, and he can see in her eyes who she's thinking about, the shadow of doubt in her expression as she looks down at a face that could have been _that boy's,_ years ago. He reaches up with his other hand, and pats her, inconspicuously moving her thumb from his watch, just in case. He smiles a child's smile and keeps it until she smiles back. She says she's sure the Holmes Otaku is coming home soon, and as he agrees he knows he's a liar; and then he's made a cute remark that makes her pat his head, and is waving over his shoulder as he runs to beat the bell. She lets him go, smiling after him, because it's just him acting like he always does.

_White for heart that will always fight…_

He turns enough to see Snake's deranged grin behind the pistol, readying himself for the end of the war he's fought for so long. He closes one fist over the red glow of the gem he's finally found and the other around his card gun. He's promising himself that the Pandora will be destroyed before he is. _This is the end of the line, Koruba Kaito,_ the monster snarls and Kaito agrees. He takes a breath…

He breaths around the hand clamped on his throat, glaring up at Gin's empty eyes, knowing this is the last fight in his seemingly everlasting war. One finger's on the trigger of his watch, the rest of his hand fisted around the cure, finally completed. Even if the gun pressed to his temple ends it before he can take it, Gin won't get it, for Haibara's sake. _This is the moment of truth, Kudo Shin'ichi_ he purrs, and Shin'ichi agrees. He takes a breath…

_...But it is black, always black, for the night._

…and wakes with a scream on his lips, his fists clutching blankets and his heart thundering in his chest... because there are no masks to hide behind in your nightmares.

-End-


End file.
